Yesterday's Flowers
by Gamemakers
Summary: A collection of oneshots featuring Finnick and Annie.
1. The Ray

**A/N:** Trigger warning for animal abuse.

Inspired by Chardin's _The Ray_ (1728).

* * *

At first, he had thought a cat or a dog would be perfect. But even strays might be missed, and he couldn't risk that.

A ray seemed better. He liked rays. They glided through the water, almost as if they were flying through it rather than swimming. Also, they kind of looked like big, grey butterflies had pancake babies. This one's skin was smooth under his fingers in a way most scales could never be. From above, rays looked invincible, but their undersides were soft, the skin thin enough that he could make out the organs beneath.

He didn't want to do this, but that was kind of the point. Finnick liked children too.

He grabbed the knife he'd stolen from the kitchen on his way out this morning. Dad woke up earlier than Mom, and he might have noticed if one of his fishing knives had disappeared. It was probably better this way. The kitchen knife made it feel more like the real thing and less like fishing. He had killed for food before, and for money too. That wasn't hard anymore, but those were just fish. Rays were fish too, he supposed, but they were special, and if he could do this, then he could do it in the Arena.

Murder had a nasty taste to it, so he wouldn't call it that. Practice sounded better.

Finnick didn't want the poor thing to suffer for too long. It had already been out of the water for a couple minutes, and its thrashing had died down. He located what looked like a heart and plunged the knife in. Maybe he'd been wrong, because it didn't die as fast as he thought it would, but there was no going back now. He tried again, then again, blindly stabbing at the body spread beneath him until it couldn't possibly be alive anymore.

This would probably be easier if it didn't still look like it was smiling at him.

The seagulls squawked behind him. Finnick wondered if they were waiting for him to be done so they could have their fill. He couldn't eat the ray. Even though Four sent a few to the Capitol to be served up as a delicacy in the fanciest restaurants, he didn't want to take it home. That would make it more like hunting for food and less like what he was going to do in the Arena. When he got up, sparing the ray one last glance before he began his walk home, the birds flocked to the feast Finnick had left for them.

He'd expected to figuratively have blood on his hands. For some reason, the literal part took him by surprise.

Finnick wiped his hands off on his pants. With any luck, Mom would assume it was from the boats. He had all the plausible deniability he could ask for. The sun was just beginning to inch its way over the horizon, marking the end of curfew hours. He still shouldn't be all the way out here, but even the most devoted Peacekeeper would hesitate to shoot a twelve-year-old who wasn't doing anything to hurt anybody. As long as they didn't see the kitchen knife, which he hadn't yet bothered to clean, he'd be fine.

The walk home wasn't long enough to collect his thoughts, but when he showed up for training that afternoon, he came with a new assurance that he could succeed. He didn't have to like it – really, it was better that he didn't – but he knew now that he could kill.

* * *

 **A/N:** I don't want to call this a sequel to _Memories of Us_ , since there's no real overarching plot, but if you're familiar with my other collection, this is in a similar vein. I will be posting drabbles and short oneshots about Finnick, Annie, and (to a lesser extent) the other District Four characters. Ratings will vary by chapter, and any trigger warnings will be listed at the top. (And no, not all of the chapters will be as dark as this one. There is fluff coming, I promise.)

If you like this, I'd recommend checking out _Memories of Us_ for other Odesta oneshots. Thanks for reading!


	2. Sandsitting

It hit her like a freight train. A perfectly pleasant afternoon nap morphed into a nightmare as her temperature skyrocketed. The fan above the bed sprouted a Siamese twin, and even when she clapped a hand over her eyes, the colors one sees only in darkness swirled around, twisting her stomach along with them.

Her instincts told her no, keep still, but ignoring them, she pulled herself up into seated position, adjusting her pillow along the headboard just in case she fainted. When that didn't make anything worse, she got up and trudged downstairs to the kitchen, hand always tight on the railing. She had hoped the hot flashes wouldn't be as bad the second time around. Naturally, the world had flashed her a giant middle finger and made them worse. Oh well, they weren't anything that couldn't be made better with some ice water and a bit of extra rest.

See, it was getting better already. She took a long sip from the glass, then pressed the smooth, cold surface to her forehead. Annie sighed at the relief it offered.

Once the room no longer felt like an oven, she decided to go check on Finnick and Ronan. It'd been awfully sweet of Finn to start coming home for a couple hours in the middle of the day so she could nap. These little breaks had become a lifesaver these last three months. Though her first trimester had gone all right, things had gone downhill fast at twenty weeks. Ever since, she'd been a mess of nerves, morning sickness, and hot flashes, and she'd needed every second of rest she could get.

The screen door to the porch fought her attempts to open it, but eventually, it budged. She'd take that as a testament to her iron will. At the bottom of the staircase that led from their back deck to the beach sat Finnick and their seventeen-month-old son. With the sound of the waves, they hadn't heard her come out, and Annie wasn't inclined to alert them to her presence just yet. She enjoyed watching them play together too much to interrupt.

Finnick and Ronan sat no more than a few inches apart, backs towards Annie. It took her a moment or two to figure out how Finn was keeping Ronan occupied. When she realized the premise of their little game, she rolled her eyes. They took turns grabbing a handful of sand and pouring it over the other's legs. Ronan giggled at the tickling feeling, and Annie just knew that Finnick was grinning like an idiot through the whole thing.

She snorted when Ronan took his handful of sand and dumped it over his head. Finnick turned at the sound, smiling when he saw her. He tapped Ronan's shoulder, and her heart sang when she saw how her baby beamed at her. "Mama!" It had been almost a year and a half, but the immediate, intense love she felt for her son still amazed her. She made her way down the rest of the steps.

"How was your nap?" Finnick asked.

"Not so good. Hot flash." She kissed the tops of the two matching bronze heads. "And how are we doing down here?"

"Pretty good. What do you think, Ronan? Having fun?"

Ronan babbled something in return. She leaned down to scoop him up in her arms, but Finnick stopped her. "I think we've got some digging to do." And they did, for Finnick must have been quite enthusiastic about burying their son.

Annie shook her head. "You get to handle bath time tonight."

"Hey, I figured out a way to keep him in one place for more than five minutes!"

"Am I supposed to be impressed?" she asked as she started digging Ronan out of the sand pile Finnick had built over his legs.

"Mrs. Odair, I want you to know that I am very impressive."

"Of course you are, dear."


	3. Bedtime Rituals

"Mommy, I need some water."

"You just had a glass of water. Come on, it's bedtime." Oh dear, there was the bottom lip. Had he not learned yet that that trick didn't work on her? His dad might be an easy touch, but at four (and a half, he'd be sure to remind her), Ronan should really understand what was likely to work with which parent. "Nope, bedtime."

"Ple-e-ease?" he stretched the word out as far as he could. Good strategy, since it made for an extra few seconds before lights-off.

Annie shook her head.

"But Maggie got a glass of water!"

"And so did you, right after you brushed your teeth. If you drink any more, you're going to have to get up during the night to go potty." When had words like 'potty' reentered her vocabulary? She and Finnick had decided before Ronan was born that they weren't going to use baby talk. No, their children would grow up using the correct words, giving them a head start on school compared to less-devoted parents' children. Needless to say, that (as well as many of their other pre-baby decisions, including not using pacifiers and never ever swearing in front of the children) had disappeared within weeks.

Meh. They seemed to be turning out fine anyway, at least so far. And fuck was that _at least so far_ terrifying.

Yes, but not the focus of this conversation. "I want to make sure you get a good night's sleep so you can have lots of fun at preschool tomorrow."

"But I'm not tired." Such exasperation. She was amazed such a little body could fit all of it. Though, really, Ronan wasn't all that little anymore. He'd definitely taken after Finnick in the height category, the lucky kid.

"Sometimes, we don't realize we're tired until we try really hard to go to sleep." Annie should feel ashamed of herself for telling complete and utter lies, but she really couldn't bring herself to care that much.

He blinked and pursed his lips, and she managed to stop herself from laughing. "But I already know I'm not tired."

"Give it another try. 'Night." She kissed his forehead and started out of his room.

"Will you tell me a story?"

She and Finnick had also made a commitment not to ignore their child when they spoke, as it had bugged the heck out of both of them when their own parents had done it. Naturally, that had been one of the few they'd actually stuck to (though Annie knew she'd broken it a few times, and she would bet just about anything that Finnick had too). "Not tonight, sweetie."

Ronan tried the puppy dog eyes again. "What about the one where you and Daddy meet?"

"That's a long story." She didn't realize until the words were out of her mouth that there was an implicit agreement to tell a shorter story in there. Wouldn't it be handy to be able to rewind the world five, ten seconds and kick yourself before you do something stupid?

"Yeah." Oh good, maybe he hadn't picked up on it.

"And it's one best left for another day." She blew a kiss to him this time, because getting anywhere close to that bed would result in being stuck for another half hour's-worth of questions, complaints, and requests. Then she flicked the lights off and retreated into the hallway and downstairs to the family room.

Finnick looked up from his book as she entered. "Was Ronan being difficult?"

"You know how he is about bedtime these days," she said, sitting down next to him. "What're you reading?"

He showed her the cover. "He's a little stinker, isn't he?"

"I wonder where he gets it from." Upstairs, she heard little feet, and she turned to Finnick with a sickly-sweet smile. "Y'know, sweetie, I think someone might need your help. Maybe some water, or to check under the bed for monsters, or…"

"He's been trying to get to sleep for _hours_ ," Finnick replied in mock-seriousness. He sighed. "You want me to cover this one?"

"If you want to still have a son after tonight, I think it'd be a good idea."

* * *

Finnick leaned against the doorway. "So," he began, "I heard you're having a hard time falling asleep."

Ronan nodded, very serious for a four-year-old. "I'm not tired."

"Good. I should have an easy time of this then." He navigated his way to the bed. "Scoot over."

"What's gonna be easy?" Despite his questions, Ronan scooted over so Finnick could lie down next to him. The bed would have been snug for Finnick by himself, but with the two of them together, it passed well into cramped territory. "Dad, what's happening?"

"We're having a race."

His son's face lit up at that one.

"We're going to see who can fall asleep first."

Well, that excitement ended quickly. "That's not a real race."

"You think so? Well, what if I told you that I'm the reigning champion?" He could feel Ronan starting to warm to the idea. "When I say 'go', we're both going to try our hardest to fall asleep. Whichever one falls asleep first wins. Get it?" A nod and no complaints. Excellent. "Go."

Ronan clamped his eyes shut immediately. Finnick went the more subtle route. He waited a minute or two to before he closed his eyes and slowed his breathing. Hey, this bed was pretty comfy. It wouldn't be hard to drift off and…

"You're not really sleeping. You snore when you sleep."

"I don't snore. Your mom snores and then blames it on me." That left only the main accusation to be addressed. "And you're right, I'm not asleep yet, but I am pretty close."

"I'm closer."

"Well, I guess we'll just have to see how this turns out, won't we?"

* * *

Annie slipped in a bookmark – Finnick always dog-eared the pages, which drove her nuts – before setting Plutarch's new history of Panem aside. It wasn't going to turn her into a history buff, but at least so far, it did have interesting tidbits here and there. Finnick would probably enjoy it more than she did.

He'd been upstairs for quite a while, hadn't he? She glanced at the clock, but quickly gave up. It was too late for mental math. He'd probably just gone to bed early. Annie turned off all the lights before trudging back upstairs.

She always checked on the kids before she went to sleep. It wasn't necessary; she knew that Ronan and Maggie would be just fine no matter what. Still, she liked to check. Maggie slept with her thumb in her mouth, red hair all tangled up around her face. It'd be a mess to work out the knots in the morning, but Annie had grown used to it. Annie was surprised her daughter had managed to stay asleep with the noise coming from next door.

The snoring only intensified when she opened the door to Ronan's room. Usually, when Finnick snored, she nudged him until he rolled over into a quieter position. Tonight, she refused to disturb the adorableness before her. Father and son had adopted the same position – on their back, right arm under the head, leaning to the left – and she considered going downstairs to grab the camera. Instead, she stood and watched for a moment more before blowing them both a kiss and shutting the door behind her, hoping it would be enough to block out the snoring.


	4. Don't Tempt Me

**A/N:** Please note that some of the opinions included are not my own and are not meant to be offensive.

* * *

Summer break lasted thirteen weeks. Due to a fishing excursion he had planned for the last week of the summer and the obligatory visit home the first week, he only had to live here for eleven of them.

Unfortunately, he had already used up his first week away from his roommates. Finnick really should've planned ahead and scheduled his visit for later in the summer, when he could no longer stand the people around him. However, aside from a bumpy first couple meetings, he had always gotten along well with Johanna. He had seen no reason to believe that her friends would be any different.

Different was an understatement. It had taken him about two hours to realize that Jo's roommates were fucking insane. Not too hard to get along with, thank God, but still bat shit crazy. Katniss practically had a full arsenal stuck away in her bedroom. If it hadn't been comprised mostly of bow and arrows (and Jo hadn't told him that Katniss was a world-class archer), he would've called the police on her.

Annette or, as she preferred, Annie Cresta made for a very different problem. He doubted Jo could explain why that level of interest in the occult was perfectly normal. Finnick swore half her books had pentagrams on the cover.

But try as he might, he couldn't stay in his broom closet of a bedroom forever. A man did have to eat once in a while. Maybe, if he'd timed it right, he wouldn't have to –

"Hey, Finnick. What's up?"

Shit. "Not too much, Annie. You?"

She shrugged, but her hands continued to shuffle the deck of cards. Oh great, Tarot again. Well, he supposed it was that or Ouija, and at least Tarot wasn't actively trying to recruit ghost-demon things to show up in their living room. "Want to play?"

"You play games with those?"

"Well, no, but I'd read your fortune."

"No thanks." He grabbed some cereal and milk from the fridge. He had planned the meal because it allowed him to run back to his room as soon as it was poured, but curiosity got the best of him. "Do you think that stuff is real?"

She nodded. "Do you?"

"No."

"Then why won't you let me read your fortune?"

Finnick shrugged and took an enormous bite of cereal, mulling it over as he chewed. No, of course he didn't believe in magic or the occult or anything like that. It was all bullshit made up to part fools and their money. "Let's suppose it is real. Why would I want to tempt the devil like that?"

Annie held out the deck for him to examine. "You think I should burn these, send 'em back to hell where they belong?" He couldn't tell if she was being serious or not.

"Don't tempt me."

"Catholic schoolboy, huh?"

"You got it."

"Oh, really?" Annie was quiet for a moment. "Does it bother you that I do this kind of stuff?"

He shook his head. "Nah. I'm not sure I believe in any of it."

"So what you're telling me is that you're an equal opportunity cynic."

"You know, Annie, I'm starting to wonder if you really do have some kind of second sight."

"Sure you don't want to give it a try?"

That wide-eyed, tanned skin, and freckles thing was hard to resist. Still, he managed to find a way. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure."

"Okay." She set the deck down in three parts and started to flip cards over.

"Hey, I said no!"

Annie looked up at him through thick, dark eyelashes. "I know. I'm doing a reading for myself now."

"Have you ever done a reading for me?"

"Perhaps." What kind of an answer was that?

"What did it say?"

"That you were going to find love very soon."

Finnick snorted. "Well, that's bullshit." She glared up at him, and he felt he had to elaborate. "Very soon isn't a well-defined term. Isn't that what Tarot and fortune tellers always say? That you're going to find love and be rich and all other types of fantastic things? Anything to keep the money coming."

Annie slapped the cards down against the table with more force than was probably necessary. "You know what, Finnick? Let's put some money on it. Fifty bucks says you fall in love this summer."

"Just in the next ten weeks?"

"Is that when school starts again? Sure."

He calculated how many hours of work it'd take to pay off fifty bucks. Sheesh, four and a half hours of hard labor to prove Annie wrong? Worth it. "You've got yourself a deal, Cresta. I hope you're good for it."

"I think it's you who should be worried, Odair."


	5. Automat

Annie triple-checked that she had enough money before lining up the four silver coins in their slots. The machine whirred, and the little plastic door popped open with a satisfying click. There were people waiting behind her, but Annie savored that moment of pulling the dish out of its little icebox nest, the sting of the cold metal turning her fingers pink. The pre-made sundaes developed a thin film of ice after sitting in the freezers for hours, and her mother had informed her again and again that they weren't as good as the ones that were made fresh at the counter, but those didn't have the novelty these ones possessed.

Ignoring the glares from the other patrons, she practically skipped back to the booth. Her parents wouldn't yell. It was very hard to make Mom and Dad mad on reaping day.

She wasn't a little kid. She understood that the Games were bad, that reaping day wasn't supposed to be fun. Still, the ceremony was over, and she didn't have to think about the scary part of it for two years, so at least for now, it could be all about the fun of getting dressed up and going into town. Best of all, reaping day meant two-scoop sundaes with cherries and sprinkles and chocolate sauce.

Some of Mom's lipstick had worn off with her first bite of ice cream, but it didn't make the ring of red around her mouth any less pretty as she smiled. "What'd you find, sweetie?"

Annie held out her sundae for inspection, but not before she popped one of the ripe red cherries into her mouth.

"Looks good," Mom said as Annie carefully set down the dish and climbed into the booth across from her. It was still a couple inches too tall for her ten-year-old body. Maybe her feet wouldn't dangle above the floor when they came back next year.

"Yeah, I'm glad Annie's so good at sharing." Dad pulled her sundae towards him.

"Hey, that's mine!"

He pulled her up against his side and kissed the top of her head. "You think I'd actually steal your sundae?"

"Yeah."

"Good, 'cause I paid for it, so it's really mine." Laughter rumbled in his chest, and he was warm where the air conditioning was almost too cold, and though she wouldn't have admitted it, Annie was grinning from ear to ear.

* * *

She shook her head. "I can't. Even thinking about eating makes me feel sick."

"Not even something little? I bet we could find you a pretzel or something." Finnick started to pull her towards the downtown, where many of the shopkeepers had set up tents full of food and pretty knickknacks to lure in the visitors that came for the reaping. If her heart hadn't been beating so fast that she could hear little besides her pulse, she probably would have thought it pretty.

She batted his hand away. "Finnick, cut it out. If I eat something, I'm going to throw up."

He turned to look her straight in the eye. "And if you stand in the sun for an hour on an empty stomach, you're going to faint in front of the entire district." He let the truth of that sink in for a second. "Annie, come on. Just try something. It might settle your stomach." The tone there, as it so often did these days, was far too personal for just neighbors. Annie tried not to think about when that had started.

"No."

"Well, I want something. Come on, this place'll be cool, at least."

She hadn't been to the ice cream parlor in two years. Like most things in Four, it never changed too much. Maybe there was a little more wear on the red booths, and maybe the chrome didn't shine quite as brightly, but that could just as easily be her memory playing tricks on her.

"You're sure you don't want anything?"

"Finnick, it's nine-thirty."

"So? I like ice cream."

She shook her head and sat down. Music pumped in from hidden speakers, and Annie tapped her fingers along with the rhythm as she waited. It didn't take long for him to come back. "Didn't find anything?"

"Nah, they're bringing it out."

"Huh." They'd never offered that before, but then again, she hadn't been a Victor the last time she visited.

"Mister Odair and Miss Cresta." The owner smiled as he set an enormous dish in front of them. She counted eight scoops, one of each type sold here.

Annie glared at Finnick while he thanked the owner. "I said I didn't want anything, and you can't make me eat it," she hissed the instant he was out of earshot.

He shrugged. "I'll finish off anything you don't want."

"You'll make yourself sick."

"I guess we'll match, then." Oh gods, did she ever want to strangle him. Still, she found herself picking up a spoon all the same.

He wasn't right. The ice cream didn't make her feel better, not even a little bit. Annie should've seen that coming a million miles away. But still, it didn't make anything worse, and she might just have to come back for some more of that cherry flavor sometime.


	6. Long Distance

He popped open the first button on his pants. "So, what are you wearing?" He kept his voice low, allowing just a hint of a purr to creep in.

"Finnick, cut it out. We're not doing this right now."

His breath hitched. The phone burned at his fingers as shame crept up, threatening to drown him. "Annie, what's wrong?" _Please, love, please tell me I didn't hurt you._ But he had, because he was a monster, and that was what monsters did. They hurt, they ripped, they tore and scratched and bit at everyone around them until some brave knight slayed them. Only after they died could anyone be happy.

 _No, stop that._ "Annie?"

She sighed. "Finnick, don't worry about it. It's just that it's Mardi Gras, there are about thirty of our family members in the house right now, and I'm just really not in the mood."

 _She didn't need an excuse, bastard._ "Well, in that case, you should definitely tell me what you're wearing - in a purely platonic, interested friend way, of course."

He could practically hear her rolling her eyes. "Of course." _You're filthy and disgusting and you'll never deserve her._ "Well, let's see… it's a green dress, hits right around the knee, has kind of coppery little beads on the straps, nothing too crazy. I think you've seen it before. I'm pretty sure I wore it to Mandy's wedding last year."

"Two years ago." He remembered it well. He couldn't focus on the ceremony, for the sun had been setting over the ocean, and the reds, golds, and violets had reflected so beautifully off Annie's hair and dress. _You don't deserve her. Someday, she'll realize it and leave you for someone better._ Finnick had kept stealing glances at her, and he'd thought he was being sneaky until she'd elbowed him in the stomach. _You're a pervert, a creep._ After that, he'd done his best to keep his eyes forward for the rest of the ceremony, trying not to think about lavishing attention with his lips and tongue on the red dots the beads left behind on her chest and back. _Why would she want you?_

"Really? Oh, their baby – Caroline? I think that's it, it sounds right, anyway - already had her first birthday this winter. Yeah, I guess you're right."

"You don't have to sound so bummed out about that," he teased. _You're only going to scare her away faster._

"Who says I'm bummed about you being right? I do have a good portion of both of our extended families in the house with me right now."

Finnick grinned. "Are you suggesting that entertaining twenty-some guests isn't your idea of a good time? I guess I'd always thought of you as a bit of a social butterfly." _Liar._ "So, how'd you manage to slip away?"

"I excused myself to use the restroom and just haven't bothered to come back yet. Mags is holding court for the moment – I don't think anyone's missed me yet."

"I miss you."

She laughed. "I miss you too." The line was silent for a moment, the kind of silence that let the demons come out to play. "Got any idea of when you're going to be home?"

 _They'll never let you go home. They'll keep you here forever, until you love them and thank them for how generous they've been to you. You want this._ "I don't know. I know I've got some things," _nightmares,_ "going on these next couple days, but after that I'm not sure. Soon, I hope."

"Your parents were asking," she offered in explanation. _Annie doesn't want you._ "Do you want to talk to them? I just saw your mom right before I came up here."

"Not right now. Maybe later." _You're a bad son. Maybe they wish they'd never had you. Would anything be for the worse because of it?_

"All right."

That silence again. Finnick remembered playing tag as a child, how each player had been allowed to choose a base where they couldn't be tagged. As long as he was with her, nothing could get to him. It was a temporary invincibility, and one that could _and will someday_ disappear in an instant, but it was his, and he would cling to it with every ounce of strength he possessed.

Still, some niceties had to be observed. "Should you be getting back to the party?"

"Probably pretty soon here. The sun's starting to go down, so it won't be long before everyone wants to head down to the town." In the Capitol, the sun shined brightly. Dusk would not even begin to fall for at least another hour. He bit down hard on his lower lip. If it hurt badly enough, he wouldn't have to think about things like that.

"Yeah, you should get back. See you later, Annie."

Judging by the silence, she wanted to argue with him _no she doesn't, she just wants to be finished with you_ , but she sighed. "Alright. You take care of yourself, okay? I want you back in one piece."

 _No she doesn't. She wouldn't care if you came back shattered into a million pieces._ Finnick forced himself to laugh. "I'll do my best."

"And Finnick?"

"Yes?"

"Remember that I love you." _But only for now._

He smiled. "I can't forget that."

"Good."

"And I love you too." He couldn't even begin to express how true that was.

"Even better."

"I guess it's time to say goodbye?"

"For now."


	7. Plants vs Annie

Trees produced shade, a necessity during District Four's hot, muggy summers. There were really few things nicer than laying down in the shade after working all day in air so thick one could practically swim through it. On a scientific level, they stored the carbon dioxide that had once come so close to suffocating Earth entirely, sequestering it inside their massive bodies. She wouldn't be able to breathe without trees, and she appreciated that.

Even after quite a bit of thought, Annie Cresta couldn't think of a single bad thing to say about trees.

Overgrown shrubs were a different matter entirely. In fact, besides the oxygen and carbon dioxide business, she couldn't think of a nice thing to say about them, and the one on the very edge of her property was a particularly notable offender.

Her first weeks back in the district after her Games, Annie had been in no state to worry about landscaping. But once the worst of those waking nightmares had faded, or so she thought, she did her best to turn her attention to other matters. It would help, the doctors had said. It was good to get outside, to see other people her own age, to do something active every day she felt able.

That first day, people were not an option. Her vision narrowed and her heart pounded whenever she spoke to Mags or the doctors. How was she supposed to pretend everything was all right around people she hardly knew anymore? They wouldn't understand, and she didn't want them to. She would rather that she had been left ignorant as well.

Annie smeared almost half a bottle of sunscreen over her skin before she went outside, something she never would have considered before the Games. Give her a few days spent outside after weeks indoors, and hopefully she wouldn't have to think about sunscreen ever again. Armed with a pair of garden shears and determination, she went to conquer the hideous plant that she could see from her bedroom window.

Some people would probably classify the plant as a tree. It did have an obvious trunk, but it wasn't much taller than Annie, and she doubted it would be growing any time soon, at least upwards. Around, the thing was massive. When Annie spread her arms, it stretched at least twice as far as the distance from fingertip to fingertip, and she swore it had grown since she moved in seven weeks ago. Since nobody ever bothered to trim it, and probably hadn't since the Victors Village was first built almost seventy years ago, it was an absolute mess. Vine-like branches shot off in every which way, and she was sure the geometers would have a ball trying to describe the shape it had grown into.

Where to cut first? Maybe she should have chosen a smaller task for her first day. She stood there, hands shaking, trying to figure out where to start, for far too long. It shouldn't matter. The shrub needed to be trimmed down, maybe removed entirely if she couldn't get it looking nice, and all the branches were a mess, and what if she picked the wrong one, and -

"Hey, what are you doing?"

She immediately dropped the shears. "Sorry, sorry, I didn't -" No, the doctors had told her to be more assertive, to apologize less. "I was going to trim the shrub," she finished, her voice weak and shaky.

Finnick looked down at her feet. "You were lucky you didn't get your toes with those. And what do you want with my tree anyways? I think it looks just fine."

In the stories Gramma used to tell her, Narcissus had stared at his own reflection for hours, worshipping his own beauty. Maybe Finnick suffered a similar affliction and had never bothered to look away and see how trees were supposed to look. "It's a shrub, first of all, and it's not yours. I want to trim it back, and I'd appreciate it if you let me go about my business without bothering me." Assertiveness was good. The doctors would like that.

But Finnick had never had a problem making sure his voice was heard. "Sorry, it's not mine? It's on my property!"

She pointed to the short white fence that separated their yards, but he shook his head. "No, Mags told me. That fence is just a couple feet short of the property line. She has that with her and Marcus' edge, too. Go and ask her about it."

"I'm just trimming it down, not taking it out. I don't know why you'd have an issue with that, seeing as it would make your yard look a heck of a lot nicer." Though really, cutting down the damn thing was sounding better and better the longer she argued.

"I said I like it the way it is," he growled.

"And in a week or two, you'll be off to the Capitol. I'd like to see you stop me then."

He looked stricken. "You wouldn't."

"You can't make me." She didn't bother to pick up her shears before turning and walking back to her house, head held high. It didn't matter that all she wanted was to roll up in a ball somewhere and cry; as long as nobody else knew that, she could count today as a victory.

* * *

He left for the Capitol six days later. When he returned home, the shrub (or tree, as he continued to insist it was) looked little different from it had when he'd left. Good. He'd had no idea what to expect with this new Victor.

(He didn't have to know that she had a few victory vines in a vase on her kitchen table.)

* * *

 **A/N:** Inspired by the prompt 'neighbors' and 'you can't make me'.


	8. Phonathon

On the tour, her escort had described the function of the telephone as a way to contact the outside world in case of an emergency. Annie didn't have the heart to tell Cassius that she already knew what a phone was and how to use one. They might have been mysteries to the Victors in the poor outer districts, but though the Crestas had never owned one, she had seen and used phones many times before.

Obviously, being a teenage girl now living well over an hour away from most of her friends, she used it exclusively for emergencies.

* * *

 _July_

It took three rings for Carrie to pick up. Weird, but maybe she was actually minding the shop instead of sitting behind the counter and waiting for the phone for once. "Your parents are fast movers." Trust Carrie to get straight to the point.

"I guess," she answered, glum about everything.

"So, how's living on your own?"

"I'll let you know when I've been doing it for more than twenty minutes."

"Your escort's an asshole for making them move out. Who cares if you're eighteen? It's not like most eighteen-year-olds live by themselves anyway."

"Can we talk about something else?"

* * *

 _August_

"I haven't heard from him in forever. I think he wants to break up with me but is too afraid to do it."

Annie knew she shouldn't be happy Carrie's love life was in shambles, but at least she wasn't alone in that regard. "You'll be better off without him."

"Yeah, but I want him to tell me himself."

"You could break up with him first, not let him have the satisfaction of doing it." Okay, maybe she just didn't like Patterson, but that's okay. No rules against disliking your friend's boyfriend.

Carrie considered it. "That does have its merits."

* * *

 _September_

There's a long pause. "Okay, I agree, both of the twins are noes. What about Finnick? He's gorgeous."

She should have seen that one coming. Over the last few days, they've considered practically every male in their village between the ages of sixteen and twenty-five to replace Patterson as Carrie's flavor of the month. Annie's neighbors seemed like a logical next step. Still…

"Annie, what do you think?"

"I don't know. I mean, he's really cute, but he's also kind of weird."

"So are you, and I like you just fine." Annie sighed as Carrie laughed on the other end.

* * *

 _October_

"I went over to Mags' earlier today. She said she would love to meet you and that you should come visit sometime."

"If I could talk Dad into letting Tessa mind the shop for a few days, I'd be there in a second."

"You think he'll do it? Tell him I'll pay for the bus ticket."

"Would you let Tessa watch the shop?"

Annie giggled as she thought of the time Carrie's younger sister had nearly burnt down the house after leaving a pot on for hours after it was done cooking. "Fair enough. You'll still try, right?"

"Of course."

* * *

 _November_

Annie peered out her bedroom window as she listened to Carrie describe her (mediocre) date. "He seems all right," she supplied when it came time for her to pass judgment.

"Yeah, that's what I thought too. He was fine, nothing great. I'll probably give him another chance 'cause I've got nothing better to do."

"I think you mean no one."

"Rude." She paused. "So, what's going on in the Victors Village that I should know about?"

"Nothing much. I have boring neighbors." That she had been watching Finnick do yard work for the past fifteen minutes didn't seem worth mentioning.

* * *

 _December_

"You're going to be okay during your Tour, right?"

She closed her eyes, hoping it would shut out the images that flashed before them just as easily. "I think I'll be okay."

"Don't worry too much about it. It's two weeks. You can handle anything for two weeks."

"Yeah." It didn't take her best friend to realize Annie was less than convinced.

"And you'll have Mags and Finnick and the rest of them along with you. Nothing would want to take on that group. You'll be the safest woman in Panem." Her words felt like a hug over the phone.

* * *

 _January_

"Get the daily Finnick report done first."

"What?"

"Come on, you've told me what he's up to every single day since you got back from the Tour. Let's get it out of the way now so we can talk about more interesting things."

Wait, had she really brought him up in every conversation since the Tour? Well, yesterday, there'd been the cake they had baked for Mags, and he came over the night before for dinner, but neither of those was really about Finnick. She'd just been her reporting on events in which Finnick happened to be involved.

"Oh, Annie."

* * *

 _February_

"So I was talking with Linda, and then this other girl that I've never seen before just –"

Finnick slipped on the ice outside, and Annie giggled. He had landed on his bottom, it wasn't as though he was actually hurt, but then he looked up and _oh-_

She dropped down to the ground. "Wait, what's so funny?"

"Finn fell on the ice."

"Really? Did he see you watching him?"

"Oh, Carrie, there was eye contact. And he saluted me. Please help me not die of embarrassment."

"You got yourself into this mess. You can get yourself out of it."

* * *

 _March_

"You're never gonna guess." Carrie's voice was breathless with excitement.

"Then tell me!" she demanded.

"Dad thinks Tessa can handle the shop! I can come next week!"

The noise she made at that was neither comprised of phonemes used in English nor recognizably human. Still, it got the right emotion across.

* * *

 _April_

"I will never understand males."

She could practically hear Carrie nod at that. "It's what I've been telling you for years. They're probably not even the same species."

"I don't get it. It's like he's mad at me, because he avoids me at least half of the time, and then the other half he's being so sweet, and I just can't."

"Kiss him. See what happens."

"You're kidding."

"No, I'm not. Really, go over there and kiss him. Why not? It should clear things up."

She hated that little bubble of resolve that formed as she put down the phone.

* * *

 _May_

It didn't feel as weird now to look out her window at him as she chatted with Carrie. Annie had certainly never crossed any lines – she had only ever watched him work in his yard or walk to the beach, nothing creepy, and if he did anything more, she shut the blinds. These days, she caught him glancing up towards her more and more often. They'd exchange smiles and thumbs up, and it felt right.

"You haven't been listening to a word I've said."

Annie blushed. "Blasphemy."

"Then who was I talking about?"

"Never said I remembered all the details."

* * *

 _June_

"Hey, why didn't you answer my call last night?"

At first, she tried to play it cool. "You called? I must not have heard it."

Carrie had always been able to see through her bullshit. "You were out with Finnick, weren't you? Come on, tell me everything. Did you stay the night?"

"Maybe it's none of your business." A blush was creeping up her neck at the thought of what they'd done last night, but that didn't mean she had to tell Caroline Troughs all about it.

"We both know you're dying to tell me all about it."

"Okay, fine."


	9. Born on the Bayou

**A/N:** Trigger warnings for gore.

* * *

She brandished the sword at her subjects. "I have the power now. No one will dare defy my rule. Now, bow, peasants!"

"Annie, put the stick down. You're being stupid."

"No one made you the boss!"

Coral rolled her eyes. She had been doing that a lot lately. "Annie, come on. I don't want you to accidentally poke someone with that thing."

"I'm not going to poke someone!" She glared at her older sister as she lowered the stick. Annie wasn't about to put it down. Most of the trees in Four were scraggly little things that looked more like giant weeds than the big trees in the other districts, not very good for growing sword-sticks. She wouldn't find another prize like this one – about a meter long, almost perfectly straight, and just the right width for her nine-year-old hands to wrap around – for a long time. Maybe not ever. "See? I'm being very careful."

Grubby little hands grabbed for her sword, and she pulled it away. "Just because I don't get to play with it doesn't mean you get to touch it, creep."

"And be nice," Coral added. "It wouldn't kill you to let Colin touch the stick, you know."

Colin gave her a big, shit-eating grin. She wasn't supposed to say that out loud, but nobody would know if she thought it or whispered it really soft. But she couldn't do that now. Coral was such a loudmouth that she'd tattle on her for sure. "What if I don't want to risk it?"

"Just keep walking, Annie. I want to get home quickly."

"I don't," Colin chimed in. Annie wasn't sure why he bothered. It wasn't like Coral would listen to anything either of them said. Ever since she started eighth grade, she had been really bossy, like Annie and Colin were little kids that she was in charge of. And since Colin was only seven, Annie guessed that made sense for him, but she could take care of herself without Coral trying to be Mom all the time.

Her older sister just kept walking as though Colin had never said anything. Annie kicked at the pebbles that formed the path as she followed along, aiming for Coral's ankles. Her bookbag banged against her back with every step, and it hurt, but she wasn't going to ask to stop. She didn't want to agree with Coral, but getting home early did sound good.

Kicking rocks got boring after a while. Good thing she still had her sword to play with. They were passing by the rice paddies now. Annie liked to play in them after they'd been drained, but during this part of the year, Dad and the other farmers flooded them. Right now, the bottoms of the paddies were so muddy that they would pull the shoes right off your feet if you stepped into them. Her old shoes, the grey ones, were still probably down there somewhere.

This time of year, the narrow raised paths through the paddies became her playground. They could be anything: tightropes, the route marked on a treasure map, bands of solid rock surrounded by deadly lava. Today, she was a wizard hiking a narrow mountain path on a very secret, very important mission. If she failed, the entire country would be in great peril. One misstep, and she would be sent tumbling over the edge to a certain death, and her knees weren't all they used to be. Lucky thing she had her trusty walking stick. The two of them had been through a lot together, even some situations scarier than the one they found themselves in now, and it hadn't let her down yet. Before each step, she poked the area with her walking stick, and more than once, the ground beneath it crumbled at the light pressure. She shuddered to think what could have happened if she was less careful.

One second, Colin was walking right in front of her, just lie he did every day. The next, something big and dark lunged out of the water with a roar, and it dragged Colin down into the water with it.

Annie heard screaming as she jumped into the water with the thing – an alligator, she now realized. It had its jaws clamed shut around Colin's leg, and red ran down those teeth and into the water. "Let go!" One of its golden, reptilian eyes focused on her, and Annie knew that she would be next.

With a scream, she swung her stick toward the creature, connecting with the scales on its back. The alligator hardly flinched. It shifted away from her. If it got much further, it and Colin would be gone forever.

On her next strike, Annie drove the point of her stick into the alligator's eye. Shadows devoured her as it arched up in the water, towering over her, and her heart stopped at its roar. The gator dropped back into the water with an enormous splash. Annie closed her eyes, waiting for death to come for her, hoping it would not hurt too bad.

There were hands pulling on her clothes. "Annie. Annie, get out of the water. Come on, you need to get out before it comes back." Coral's voice brought her back to reality. "Annie, climb out. I can't go in there, or we'll both be stuck."

She tried to move, but her feet felt as though they had been glued to the bottom. Coral shook her head. "Leave your shoes behind. They don't matter. You need to run." The entire world went still when she saw Colin. Blood oozed out from his leg, puddling in the dirt and turning it to mud. Something white poked through the cut, and it took her a long moment to realize it was bone.

Coral hoisted him up. "Annie, you need to run ahead and find help." Finally, something snapped into place, and Annie sprinted towards home.

* * *

She looked up when she heard the door open. "Is Colin going to be okay?" she asked her father as he stepped inside.

He shook his head. "I don't know, sweetie." Today, Dad looked older than he ever had. Deep bags hung under his eyes, and his shoulders sagged. "He's going to live. That's the important thing."

"What about his leg? Are the doctors going to fix it?"

"They're gonna try. They're not sure quite yet how bad the damage is." He sat down and started to take off his shoes. She padded over to him and crawled into his lap, burying her head in his chest. Strong arms surrounded her, and for the first time in hours, Annie didn't worry that the gator was coming for her next. Dad kissed the top of her head. "You're a brave girl, you know that?"

She said nothing. Annie didn't want to argue with him, but all she had done for the last ten hours was stare at the ceiling and cry, too scared to do anything else.

"No, you are. They sent out search parties after the attack, hunted down the gator, and you now what? It was blind in one eye. The eye had been completely ruined. If you hadn't stabbed it, they said, there's no way it would have let Colin go." He moved her away from his chest just a few inches so he could look into her eyes. "Your bravery and quick thinking saved him, Annie. Then you ran and got help, which is just as important. I'm so proud of you, sweetie, and whatever else happens, I need you to know that."

"Thank you." That was what you were supposed to say when somebody complimented you. She searched for something else to say. "Can I see Colin now?"

He nodded. "I'm here to get the two of you and pick up some things. You go and get Coral. I'll get our stuff together."

* * *

Colin would have to stay in the hospital for at least another week. They'd had to amputate his leg at the knee. Annie had cried, but not as much as Mom had. He slept a lot, sometimes because he was tired, but mostly because the medicine they gave him to make it hurt less also put him to sleep. Even when he was awake, he looked tired and pale and sad, not at all like he had been before.

After two days, Mom made Annie and Coral return to school. Having them at the hospital a day wasn't helping anybody, she'd said. Best to get your minds off of things for a few hours a day.

Annie didn't learn anything the first day. The teacher talked, but Annie didn't hear anything, for there wasn't room in her head for anything other than Colin. On the second day, she tried harder to listen, but she still didn't remember very much at the end of the day. Mamie and Alice tried to get her to play with them during recess, but Annie didn't feel like it. She didn't even kick at the rocks as she and Coral walked home.

The instant she stepped inside, Annie felt something off. She looked at Coral, who shook her head and pressed a finger to her lips. Annie nodded, and they closed the door very quietly behind them before tiptoeing to the kitchen door. When she pressed her ear against it, she heard her father's voice, too quiet for her to make out his words.

Then came another voice, male, deeper than Dad's. "I hate to bring this up, but the medical bills are going to start stacking up once this is all said and done. I'm sorry, but we can't help you with those. We can, however, take her out of the house. One less mouth to feed, one less body to clothe. It might not be much, but it'd make a difference."

"I'm not going to sell my daughter and let you and your lot kill her off."

"She wouldn't necessarily be the volunteer. We train four or five girls a year. Only one goes into the Arena."

"Not my Annie." At that, her eyes snapped to Coral, who stared back at her, green eyes wide and scared.

The man wasn't giving up. "If she did end up volunteering, she'd be as prepared as we can possibly make her. Your daughter's already strong, and she's got a good head on her. If she's fending off full-grown gators at nine, imagine what she'll be capable of at eighteen."

"You're not changing my answer."

"Talk it over with your wife, ask Annie what she thinks. You don't have to make a decision today."

"I've already made it."

There was a long silence. "If you want to talk again, you know where to find me. I'd be happy to answer any questions you might have."

Coral dragged her back a few steps, so by the time the door swung open, it looked like they had only just arrived home. "Hello," she said to the man who came out, a big, tall man Annie remembered seeing somewhere before but didn't know.

"Good day, ladies." He barely glanced at Coral before fixing his eyes on Annie. She only barely managed to stop herself from shuddering. "You're Annie, right?"

She nodded.

"I've heard a lot about you these last couple days. Good job with that gator."

"Thank you."

He nodded at Coral as he stepped outside. Her older sister locked the door as soon as it swung shut behind him.


	10. And Hide Where Death Can't Catch You

**A/N:** Trigger warnings for blood, violence, and mental illness.

She had tempted the other woman towards her. _As the mermaids sing for the sailors, drawing them near so they might pull them under. But the sailors are not stupid, not like you, and thee mermaids always lose in the end._ Annie's lost too, so lost, and there's no way home now, not when she doesn't remember which way is up anymore and isn't sure that it matters.

And the mermaid can see how stupid the girl must have been to think that she could win. She sees her before her district, proud and strong and nothing like the woman she once was. Pride before a fall, she knows those words as well as she knows herself. _Not well at all. Who is Annie Cresta?_ And they're right, so right, just like the others always are, _but they don't matter now. It's only you and me, just as it's always been meant to be. Break the dam, and the stream returns to the river._ The dam. The dam broke, she remembers it. It was real _but now it's not_ , she felt it, tried to climb it to see if she could get to the other side. _Don't worry, I'm afraid you'll find it soon enough._

Below _or above, or one of any other infinite directions_ , there is a woman. She has dark hair and grey eyes and lips red as blood, and if she were anywhere else, Annie might like very much to kiss her. But though she has no great longing to return to the surface _if there is still a surface_ , her lungs burn _burning underwater. Fire and flood, when you look at them closely, aren't so different, now are they?_ They beg her _did you listen to the Six boy when he begged you?_ to move somewhere, to breathe.

Maybe they have already kissed. There's blood on her lips, after all, blood everywhere, enough to drown her in, and Annie still holds a knife. _But you don't kiss with that, now do you?_ She's waiting, the other woman, waiting for Annie to give up, or to come to her, so she can finish Annie. She will bite and tear and rip. And when she's done, there will be nothing left of Annie for them to fish _no better than a fish now. Look how far you've fallen_ out and send home to her family. _At least you'll be able to go home_. _It's more than you deserve._

And so she swims. Annie swims until her mind spins and she sees the future that could have been _and never will be_ in the bubbles as she exhales. A wedding, a baby, her mother's smile. _It's not real_.

A cannon. It's hers. It has to be hers, because she hasn't seen the other woman move, and it's all a waste, but she keeps swimming _because Death can't catch you if you aren't a good girl who sits still for him_. She follows the bubbles wherever they agree to lead her _blind, as they bring pigs to slaughter,_ for anything is better than staying here. _Here, where nightmares end and reality begins, but no one can quite say where the border lies._

"The Victor of the seventieth…" Never has she so hated Caesar's voice. If she reaches the surface before he finishes, it can't be real. _You still know the difference?_ She can still win.

There's sunlight, up here, bright and blinding and so very wrong _because when the earth shook, you shook with it, and neither of you came back quite right._


	11. Far & Away

"It looks like they're all loaded up. I should probably go." Finnick laughed when Annie nuzzled deeper into his shoulder. "Don't worry. I'll be back soon."

"You'd better be." She pulled him down for one last kiss. "I love you."

"I love you too." Annie stiffened when the hovercraft's engine roared to life a few feet away, and he gave her an extra squeeze before pulling away. "I think that's my cue. Promise me you won't worry too much?"

She handed him his trident. "If you think I'm going to agree to that, you're even stupider than I thought."

He waved as he hurried up the ramp and onto the hovercraft. Gale watched him, a carefully neutral expression on his face. "Be quiet, you" Finnick said, his efforts to be scolding foiled by the smile he couldn't quite wipe away.

"Did I say anything?"

* * *

"See, you didn't have to worry about me."

She didn't turn away from where she sat at the foot of their bed. "Annie? I'm back." He sat down next to her. For once, the mattress didn't groan beneath his weight. "Annie, can you hear me?" Finnick put a hand on her shoulder. "Sweetheart?"

There had been times after her Games where she wouldn't respond, but she hadn't had an attack this bad in years. "I'm going to grab Doctor Aurelius, all right?"

He made it as far as the door before she started sobbing. Finnick hated that he counted that as an improvement. He moved back to her. "Don't worry, love, it's all right." He tried to push a piece of hair back from her face, but his fingers slipped through it. Finnick stared at his fingers, then at her hair, but nothing seemed off. Nevertheless, trying again yielded the same result.

It was just his mind playing tricks on him. He needed to keep talking, calm both of them down. "I just got back. Not going to lie, there were some close calls here and there. The Capitol's rigged just like an Arena. They've got these little boxes hidden all around, little ones so small you don't see 'em until you've triggered whatever trap they've got inside. Pollux – you've met him, he's an Avox – he led us down into the sewers to try and escape them, but even down there they had these things that were almost half lizards and half people. It was almost the end of me right there, but…"

But what? For the life of him, he couldn't recall anything after the sewers. But there must have been something, for he wouldn't have –

He reached for her again, but this time, he was not surprised when she did not respond. "Oh, Annie. I'm so sorry."


	12. (thanks)

**A/N:** Trigger warnings for mental illness, (imagined) gore.

* * *

They had snow. On _Thanksgiving_. And nobody seemed to think that was weird.

In a hypothetical sense, she had understood when she decided to move here that there would be snow. Her inner Georgian understood snow to be a rare event followed by school closings and general chaos, a light dusting of powdered sugar over the world that melted by mid-afternoon. That poor Southern girl was not happy to realize that even though the snow plows hadn't even made good headway on the four inches that covered everything, classes were very much not cancelled. She almost slipped twice on her way to tutorial Tuesday morning.

Jo, native Midwesterner and possible inspiration for _The Snow Queen_ , hadn't been very receptive to her complaints. Apparently, Annie should have known that her boots weren't waterproof even though they had been purchased in the winter section at Target. She also should have come preprogrammed with the knowledge that fingerless gloves were meant for inside use only.

Bless her heart, but also, fuck her.

Twenty-one days until her plane left for Atlanta. She shouldn't be counting down days already, definitely shouldn't have been counting the days since she got back from fall break, but it was cold, and she missed her cats, and judging by their Facebook posts, all of her high school friends that went to Georgia Tech together were having a way better time at college than she was. Last night, one of them had sent out a group text about getting together early tomorrow morning for Black Friday shopping. It sounded fun. Too bad Annie lived a thousand miles away and couldn't spring a six-hundred-dollar plane ticket for three days at home. Instead, she got to sit around her dorm and hate herself for five days straight. Good times.

As it turned out, a day spent watching Netflix and drinking seven cans of Diet Coke was a little much. So on International (okay, just National) Turkey Day, she woke up at six AM and started recipe hunting. Allrecipes really should add a feature where one could search for recipes that only had ingredients that could be easily stolen from college dining halls. Eventually, she settled on Incredible 3-Ingredient Nutella Brownies. Jo had flour and eggs, and she would bet that she could sneak out of the dining hall with a cup and a half of Nutella. Perfect.

She hadn't RSVP'd to Professor Cohen's dinner. Annie was just going to hope that as long as she showed up with something to share that everything would be all right. Snow seeped into her boots as she trudged towards the Ninth Avenue address, but she would not be deterred.

Her hands shook as she rang the doorbell. Annie decided to blame that on the cold.

"Hey." Oh gosh, not only had she managed to go to the wrong house, she'd also found the guy she'd been avoiding for the last three weeks. How could she be this stupid? "You brought brownies? Sweet."

"Oh, um, I… is this Professor Cohen's house?"

Finnick – after the Halloween party incident, she and Jo had scoured DB until they figured out his name – smiled. "Sure is. Come on in." He moved out of her way so she could step inside. "I can take care of those, if you'd like. We're putting coats and boots in the guest bedroom – first on your left."

Annie let him take the plate of brownies and scurried into the guest bedroom.

What the fuck had she gotten herself into. Honestly, how had she let Jo get her drunk enough that she not only danced up to some guy she'd ogled but never actually talked to but also admitted that her lesbian roommate would make an exception to lick him? Socially acceptable behavior, that was not. Never mind that he'd seemed to take it as a compliment and Johanna had thought it was hilarious. Annie was still mortified.

Maybe he didn't remember her. She had been dressed up as Selina Kyle, and this year, you couldn't go two feet without running into some girl's Harley Quinn bat. Perhaps _Suicide Squad_ would be her saving grace as well as the film that haunted her Batman-lover's nightmares.

The entire house smelled like a really expensive candle, warm and a little spicy and probably something to do with cloves. Annie still wasn't sure what cloves smelled like, but they seemed to be in just about everything winter-y. As she moved towards the kitchen, she could make out the smell of turkey and stuffing, and her stomach rumbled.

Professor Cohen smiled at her when she entered the kitchen. "Hello, Annie. It's good to see you. I was hoping you'd make it."

Though Professor Cohen – Annie doubted she'd ever get comfortable enough to call her Mags, though all the other students did – was about eighty years old, Annie was positive she could rip someone's head off with her bare hands if she so desired. Luckily, she didn't seem to want to right now. "Thank you for inviting me. I'm sorry I didn't RSVP. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Don't worry about it. Plans change, and we've always got space for an extra guest – especially when they come bearing chocolate." The oven dinged. "Rhonda, I think your turkey is done!" Professor Cohen turned back to her. "I'm useless in the kitchen. We're all lucky she's around, or we'd be eating KFC for dinner."

Another woman, who Annie assumed was Rhonda, opened the oven, and a delightful warmth flooded the kitchen. "All right, I think we're done." She looked towards Professor Cohen. "Go herd everyone into the dining room, will you?"

"You heard the woman. Off to the dining room with the lot of you."

The dining room was enormous, but there was no way it would fit everybody who had shown up. Annie recognized the international students who were in Professor Cohen's tutorial with her, and a few of the other faces looked vaguely familiar.

And, of course, Finnick. Because it would just be too easy if he disappeared. Annie didn't think he tried to stay with her, or at least, he did a way better job of acting casual than she would have, but when half the group broke off to sit in the living room, he somehow ended up next to her on the couch. Great.

"Annie, right?" He had a nice smile, one that she couldn't help but return.

"Yep." Here came the hard part. Admit to knowing his name and then try to come up with something better than 'I'm a stalker' if he questioned it, or pretend to be clueless? Man, being a lackluster adult came with some hard choices. "And you're Finnick?" If she passed it off as a legitimate question, maybe it'd seem less weird.

"Sure am. Nice to meet you."

"You too." Could it please be dinnertime now? Because conversation had never been her strong suit, and now she was being asked to do it with some guy who (a) she had completely disgraced herself in front of while drunkenly trying to flirt three weeks prior and (b) made her wonder if Abercrombie ads were really as photoshopped as everybody said.

"Are you a freshman? I don't think I've seen you around before this semester."

As though he would have noticed her. Annie decided not to voice that opinion. "Yep."

"Not from around here, I'm guessing?"

"Not at all. I'm from Atlanta. How about you?" This was how conversations worked, right? Pop questions back and forth until you found something in common or something so different it was worthwhile talking about?

"Portland. Not sure which of us wins the further away contest, but I think you definitely win when it comes to the weather. How've you been holding up this past week?"

"I think I'm doing pretty well, but everyone else seems to have a different opinion."

She thought the joke fell a little flat, but Finnick's chuckle sounded genuine. "I suppose I'll have to take your word for it. Don't worry, it gets easier."

"I sure hope so." Annie was in for three years – well, winters – of misery if he wasn't right. "I'm afraid for my toes."

"It would be a shame if they fell off."

"That can happen?" She just meant she was afraid her toes would get too cold, but if they could fall off… Her mind ran with the thought. Why stop at her toes? There were fingers, brittle and dry, ready to snap off. She could hear them now, the _crack_ her bones would make as they broke, and what was left would itch so much, she'd start scratching, and the skin would come off in ribbons that she could peel off like dried glue. And she would keep peeling, stripping off her skin until she could see her skeleton, get a good look at the cheekbones Aunt Vivian was so jealous of, watch her organs spill –

"Are you all right?" Finnick's voice invaded her thoughts. "Annie?"

She wrenched her mind off that terrible path. "I'm fine."

It would take a real idiot to fall for that. "Mags said it's time for dinner. Want to grab something to eat?"

"Not right now, thanks." She could only see her chest expanding as she struggled for breath, her ribs cracking under the pressure, the jagged edges pushing through her skin…

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'm not hungry."

"Annie? Are you sick or something? Do you need to go home?"

The room was getting smaller, the walls puffing out until they were almost touching her. The second he left, it would swallow her whole. "I, um, I…"

Finnick's brow creased with concern. "I'll walk you home, okay? Let me find Rhonda or Mags and thank them real quick while you get your coat and boots."

She thought she couldn't do worse than last time. Who didn't walk away from college with an embarrassing drunk night out story? And then there was Annie Cresta, professional failure at life who couldn't be satisfied with ruining _one_ person's Thanksgiving and had to go for two instead. She should have just stayed home, eaten that entire batch of brownies, and made herself physically ill. It wouldn't be the first time, and no matter how many times her therapists lied to her, there would never be a last.

Her fingers shook too much _useless_ for her to lace her boots properly. She ended up shoving the laces into her boots and hoping they would stay put long enough for her to get home. Not _real_ home, that was a thousand miles away, and fake dorm room home didn't begin to compare, but it would have to be enough. She hated settling for enough, because everyone had to settle, and she wasn't special, and she hated herself for hating it, and it started a vicious cycle that only got worse the more she looked at it. Annie was paying sixty thousand dollars a year to be fucking miserable. What a bargain.

"You ready?" Finnick asked.

She managed a nod and followed him towards the door. Her cheeks burned when she realized how many people could see her right now. Maybe Finnick had tried to pass it off as an upset stomach or a headache, but they would all figure it out eventually. Crazy Cresta never stayed hidden for long.

"Is it better if I talk or stay quiet?" There was nobody else out here, but it still took Annie a second to realize that Finnick's question was directed at her.

"Talk."

"Well, I'm good at that." She wondered if he'd ever had braces. His teeth were really straight. Counting them was weird, but she did it anyway. Fourteen she could see. "Rhonda insisted on giving us some lunch to take with us. I hope you like turkey, but if you don't I'd be more than happy to take it off your hands. Rhonda's a really good cook."

It would get better once she got back to her dorm room, once she could lay down. It'd be okay. She just needed to keep telling herself that.

"Watch out!" Finnick yanked her back onto the sidewalk half a second before the car flew past at a good fifty miles an hour. Annie could have sworn that her heart stopped beating. She could have _died_ , would have if it weren't for him, and all because she couldn't figure out how to cross the street. Maybe he should have let her cross. After all, why did the Annie cross the road? "Hey, don't worry about it. Those douchebags shouldn't have been driving like that in a thirty zone. Come on, one block more. We can do it."

She licked her lips and took a shaky breath. "What do you do for Thanksgiving at home?"

Finnick grinned at her. "We did every other year at my mom's parents and then a year at my dad's parents. They're both from New York, but one did the whole move down to Florida thing once they retired."

"That's a long way from Oregon." Her voice sounded almost even this time. She could do this.

"Yeah, definitely. We always flew, so it wasn't too bad. How about you? What would you be doing if you weren't here right now?"

"My aunts and uncles – well, except one, but he doesn't come anyway – live in Atlanta, so we get together. It's not a big deal." Half a block until they reached her dorm. _Keep talking._ "It was fun to spend the day with my cousins." Not exactly the most interesting story, but it kept her mind off everything else.

"I bet. My mom's an only child, so that year was always kind of a bummer, but my dad has four siblings, and his parents are the ones who live in Florida. We'd always go to Disney or the beach the day before."

"That sounds like fun. I've always wanted to go to Disney." Oh no, they were almost at the door to Haines. Three steps, two, one… _there._ Wait, was she really sad this was over?

Finnick unlocked the door with his P-card and held it open for her. "You should. It's a good time." Time for him to leave. That really should be a good thing.

"Thanks for walking me home."

"Hey, no problem. You feel better, okay?"

"Thanks."

Finnick glanced down at his feet for a second before looking back at her. "Hey, so, um, me and some buddies are going to head down to the Strand tomorrow and watch the new Hunger Games movie at noon. Maybe stop by?"

"Sure." Had she actually pulled off nonchalant? Damn.

"Great." That smile again. If she was going to spend the next hour naming their firstborn, she should probably to get used to it, but damn if that wasn't easier said than done. "See you later, Annie."

"Have a happy Thanksgiving." She came back to the dorm to rest, and she would in just a moment, but really, watching Finnick walk away was well worth losing a couple minutes of sleep.

* * *

 **A/N:** Happy (belated) Thanksgiving! I've missed writing these little/not-so-little drabbles. I apologize for my absence, but unfortunately, it looks like regular updates aren't going to happen for the foreseeable future. Thanks for reading!


	13. Sharing Memories

**A/N:** Mentions of vomit.

* * *

 _"Shara's mom lets her wear lipstick on picture day."_

 _"Do I look like Shara's mom to you?" Bad question. With shiny blue-black hair that flowed past her waist and wide blue eyes framed by equally impressive eyelashes, Annie would bet that Seya Vergas had emerged full-formed from the seafoam. Before her seven-year-old daughter could jump on that – and Annie knew better than to think Maggie would pass up that opportunity – she tapped on Dylan's plate. "Come on, eat up."_

 _"I'm not hungry."_

 _"But you need to eat so you can learn. Food fuels your brain and your body."_

 _The pout came out, and Dylan shook his head. "Not hungry." He'd been such an easy baby. Did some kids just put off the Terrible Twos until they were four?_

 _"You aren't leaving this table before you've eaten five bites. I get to decide what counts as a bite."_

 _"Mom, what if it's just a little bit of –"_

 _Time to put her foot down. "I said no, Maggie."_

 _"No, you didn't. You just said you didn't look like Shara's mom."_

 _"She's right, you know." Of course Ronan would choose now to add his input. He could go days without making so much as a peep during breakfast, even when she tried to drag him into the conversation, but now that breakfast was slipping out of her control, he just had to step in. "You didn't specifically say no," he added._

 _"You both know what I meant." She checked the clock. Good, they had eleven minutes before they needed to leave. That should be enough time to do something about the weird curl Ronan had going on over his forehead. Annie normally wouldn't bother, writing off any interesting curls and bumps as Finnick's genes and therefore not her problem, but today was picture day, and that called for a little extra effort. "That bite doesn't count, Dyl - sweetie, what's wrong?"_

 _Annie had seen that look enough times to know what was going to happen. She grabbed Dylan under the arms and ran towards the bathroom._

 _"Mom, what if I –"_

 _"Not now, Maggie!" They almost made it to the toilet. Some hit her foot, but she hardly noticed. It wasn't the first time one of her kids had thrown up on her, and she doubted it'd be the last. She set him down before the toilet and rubbed his back as he coughed. "It's all right, sweetie." Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes, and her heart hurt. "Shh," she comforted him, "you're going to be okay."_

 _"Gross. Is Dylan sick?" Maggie peeked into the bathroom._

 _No, he's puking his guts up because he's not sick. Annie bit back the words. No reason to make things worse. "Yes. Can you give him some privacy, please?"_

 _Maggie retreated, and Dylan's shoulders stopped shaking under her hands. "Better?" she asked, and he shook his head. Poor thing. "I'm going to go check on your siblings. Can you stay here and call for me if you get sick again?" This got a brave little nod. She kissed the top of his dark head – no fever, a good sign – and returned to the kitchen._

 _Ronan was still eating his toast as though nothing unusual had occurred. That boy had an iron stomach. "Ronan, call Mrs. Trawlers and ask if she can drive you and Maggie to school." She fished around under the kitchen sink for the necessary cleaning supplies, pulling out the disinfectant and gloves. The spatula sat in its usual spot at the sink._

 _"Mommy, I think I'm gonna throw up again." As she rushed back to the bathroom, she didn't have time to wonder why Maggie was digging through her purse._

* * *

"I still can't believe her teacher didn't make her take it off." All these years later, she remembers in perfect detail Maggie's proud smile as she presented Annie with her school picture. The deep brownish-red would have done nothing for her daughter's golden skin and bronze hair even if applied correctly. Smeared over her lips with all the enthusiasm of a seven-year-old certain they had gotten away with something, it turned an otherwise very nice picture into a complete mess.

"I had a hard enough time with just our three. I can't imagine trying to wrangle twenty at a time."

"Seconded." Annie runs a finger over the photo and turns to Finnick, smiling. "I was so angry at her."

"Not as mad as you were at me for buying the picture."

"We could've had it retaken."

"But it wouldn't have been as memorable."

She frowns at him and settles back into the couch. His arm tightens around her shoulders as she flips to the next page. Annie snorts at the picture of Ronan, his right arm in a cast, grinning as he holds up his eighth-grade diploma with his good hand. "What is this, the album of all the times I wanted to throttle our kids?"

"I thought you wanted our kids to graduate."

"Of course I did. I was talking about that." She points to his cast. "What on earth made him think that riding his bike on the very edge of the pier was a good idea?"

Finnick chuckles. "Fourteen-year-old boys do some stupid stuff. I was one once too, you know."

"Thank goodness I'm not your mother. I never would have survived."

"There are a lot of reasons I'm glad you're not my mother." He's still proud of his come-ons. Finnick leans down to kiss her neck. She smells like the soap in their shower, and he knows the same scent clings to his own body as well.

"That's awful." Nevertheless, Annie leans into the caress, and her fingers thread through his hair, holding him to her. But when he starts to edge down the neck of her blouse, she nudges him away. "Maybe later," she answers the question in his eyes. "I want to look through this first." He keeps his head on her shoulder as they flip through years of memories. He's only included the good ones, weddings and birthdays and quiet days at the beach, the ones he wants to hold onto forever. Most of them can be passed with a smile, maybe a quick word or two. A few need more time, contemplation, discussion. And here, in the home they've shared for thirty-five years, thirty of them as a married couple, is the perfect place for all of it.

* * *

 _Annie insisted that going through the boxes at the back of the closet was more than enough of an anniversary gift. Some of them had been sitting there since they returned from Thirteen to find what remained of their possessions strewn across the floor. Finnick still didn't know if it had been peacekeepers or looters. Stuffing what remained into boxes was meant as a temporary solution. Later, when they had more time, they would go through everything._

 _Sitting in the center of the guest bedroom, surrounded by boxes, Finnick had to wonder when they thought they'd thought they would have more time. Nothing he could do about that now. He picked a box at random and opened it. Some recipe cards, a few letters, and three years' worth of Couture Capitale. He'd forgotten that Annie's stylist used to send those. Finnick set a few of the magazines aside – Dylan might get a kick out of those - and binned the rest of it. One box down. Way too many to go._

 _He smiled when he opened the fourth, for Annie and Dylan smiled back at him. Well, Annie squint-smiled, her sunhat not blocking as much of the bright July sun as she'd probably hoped, and Dylan's mouth hung open as he stared at the camera, Annie's oversized sunglasses even larger on his nine-month-old face. Finnick set it aside to show Annie later._

 _By noon, the Annie pile had grown to include at least three dozen gems, and he still had a mountain of boxes left to go. When he found the remnants of a well-intentioned scrapbooking project, Finnick grinned. Perfect._

* * *

"That's my favorite." Maggie and Dylan chase after the bubbles Ronan blows for them. He can hear their giggles now just as clearly as he did twenty years ago. The minute he'd found it, tucked into the very last box, he knew it would have to go on the last page.

"I can see why." Annie smiles. "They look like they're having fun."

"They were. It took me forever to convince them to come inside that night."

"I'm sure you pressed really hard."

"Of course."

"Didn't accept any requests for five more minutes."

"That would have been irresponsible of me," he agrees.

She shifts in his arms. Now that he can't avoid her eyes, it's getting harder to maintain the innocent face he's spent years perfecting. "And you definitely didn't blow any bubbles for them after you said it was bedtime."

"Mrs. Odair, you are really very good at this guessing game."

Instead of the scolding he deserves, he gets a kiss on the cheek, which he considers a much better alternative. "Thank you. It's perfect." Another kiss, this time on the lips.

"Thank you for putting up with me for thirty years."

"It's been a chore." She jumps when his fingers find the ticklish spot on her side. "I mean, you're welcome, most wonderful and loving husband."

"That's better."

He earns another kiss on his cheek. "You know, Odair, you aren't too bad. I think we might just have to shoot for another thirty."

"I was thinking fifty."

"A hundred and three and a hundred and four?" A hundred and five, actually, but he's not going to correct her. "Hey, if you're up for it, I guess we can give it a go."

"I'm definitely up for it." He wiggles his eyebrows at her.

She rolls her eyes. "I might love you, but remember that you're still awful."

"I'll make a note of it."


End file.
